


Cold As Ice

by WinJennster



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Again Jenn? Really? Yes, Bunker Fluff, Dean's Birthday, Fluff, Hypothermia, I did, M/M, Skin to skin, but no smut, cas gonna warm his boy up, sorry - Freeform, you can't stop me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-15 21:45:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5801410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinJennster/pseuds/WinJennster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Upside down and slowly turning into a Winchestersicle, this WAS NOT how Dean wanted to spend his birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold As Ice

"It's been nearly six hours," Cas frowned. "He's not answering his phone. I'm concerned."

"I am too, but I don't know what to do. The storm's getting worse. If we go out and look for him, we might get stranded, too. He's probably at the bar in Smith Center. He knows better than to try and drive in this crap.” Sam looked over at the table with the pie, beer, and presents sitting on it. “He probably figured out we were doing something for his birthday and bolted.”

“Still -”

“Let me try him again,” Sam said, dialing Dean’s number.

* * *

 

Dean could hear the phone ringing, but he couldn’t get to it. His head was spinning, probably from all the blood rushing downward. The damn seat belt was still jammed, so all he could do was hang helplessly, upside down in the Impala.

At least he was on the driver’s side - the passenger side roof had completely caved in. “More fucking repairs,” he muttered.

All he’d wanted was a beer to quietly celebrate his thirty-seventh birthday. He never thought he’d make thirty in the first place, let alone thirty-seven. But he’d never made it to Stella’s in Smith Center. The storm had kicked up and Dean had decided he’d better turn and head for home, judging by the ridiculously fast way the snow had started to pile up.

Less than a mile from the bunker, a semi had cut him off, sending him into a tail spin. Dean had fought desperately to keep Baby on the road, but she was never good in snow. He’d gone over an embankment and then end over end until he hit his head and blacked out.

Upside down and slowly turning into a Winchestersicle, this was _not_ how Dean wanted to spend his birthday. Now he waited. Hoping that Sam would figure out something was wrong and come looking for him.

Otherwise, as he hung upside down in his disabled car, he was going to freeze to death.

* * *

 

“There’s nothing in the garage that can help, Cas,” Sam said, following the former angel through the halls.

“You’re wrong. Several weeks ago, Dean found something.” In the back corner, a tarp covered something lumpy. “He thought it would be a good thing to have around, so he worked and got it running.” Cas yanked off the tarp.

“My brother is a genius,” Sam marveled. Underneath the tarp, an ancient Ski-doo snowmobile sat waiting, shined up and ready to roll. “And it runs?”

“Dean said it’s gassed up and ready to go. We can take turns.”

“Cas, I want to do this. I hate the idea of him being out there somewhere, but what if he’s miles away and -” Sam shivered. “I’m scared we’ll lose him and us too - no, you know what? I can’t sit here and do nothing. I’ll get bundled up and take the first run. No more than half an hour out there, ok? And we stay in touch.”

“Fine.”

Sam left the bunker ten minutes later, bundled in lots of cold weather gear with a set of skiing goggles on his face. The next thirty minutes were hell to Cas, with his nerves making him nauseous as he worried about both Dean and Sam.

Deciding to make himself as useful as possible, he gathered old fashioned hot water bottles from the infirmary, taking them to the kitchen. He found a large pot and filled it with water, turning it on to boil. Cas wandered from room to room, gathering extra blankets and taking them to Dean’s room.

He just had a feeling Dean would need them.

Thirty minutes later, and Sam was back, alone.

“I made it about a mile away. Cas, you’ve got to pay attention to where you’re going to make sure you can get back. It’s bad out there. Really bad.”

“Alright,” Cas told him, pulling on all the cold weather gear they’d found for him. Sam put more gas in the snowmobile while Cas dressed.

“Take these,” he said, handing over the goggles. “And it didn’t occur to me, but better have some blankets on board in case you find him and he needs them.”

“Good idea.”

Sam ran back down the hall to retrieve a plastic bag and the blankets while Cas finished getting ready. He strapped them to the seat of the snowmobile with a bungee cord. “Thirty minutes. It’s neg 2 out there. Don’t stay out any longer.”

“I won’t, I promise,” Cas said, throwing his leg over the seat and starting the engine. Sam opened the garage doors and Cas sped out into the night.

* * *

 

It was so quiet.

So quiet, and so cold.

His shoulder hurt from being trapped in the seatbelt, but Dean couldn’t feel his hands or his feet anymore. This was bad. He couldn’t get out, couldn’t move. Bad.

In the distance, he heard some type of engine and hoped whoever it was would find him. But the engine faded into the distance, and Dean sighed in defeat.

* * *

 

Cas didn’t find anything and came back and sent Sam out. Half an hour later, Sam was back. Once again, Cas went out and didn’t find any sign of Dean. Neither did Sam on his third trip.

“Cas, we can’t keep doing this.”

“One more time. Please?”

Shaking his head, Sam helped him get ready and out the door. “Good luck,” he said softly.

* * *

 

He almost missed it. Cas had been heading back to the bunker when it caught his eye.

Red light in the snow, but so faint, he almost went right past it. Cas stopped the snowmobile and hopped off, following the red glow.

It turned out to be a dying tail light.

“Dean! Dean!” he called, digging at the car.

The Impala was upside down, wedged into a snowbank and completely buried in powder.

“Dean! Answer me!” Cas dug frantically, trying to get to the driver’s door. He prayed to his absent father that Dean was still breathing.

It took longer than he wanted to clear the car, and Cas yanked hard on the door handle. It didn’t open. Falling to his knees, he fumbled for the flashlight Sam had given him, shining into the window.

Dean hung upside down, suspended from the seatbelt, his lips blue.

“No! No, Dean, Dean, wake up, wake up!” Cas pulled on the door, but it was frozen shut. Dammit!” Scrambling to his feet he looked for something, anything, to break the glass. Finding nothing, he realized he’d have to try and kick it in. “I’m sorry,” he told the car, sitting down in the snow near the back driver’s window. Pulling both his feet back, he slammed his boots into the glass as hard as he could. Two, three, and on the fourth kick, the window cracked. One more kick shattered it, and Cas wasted no time climbing inside the car.

Dean’s pulse was sluggish, but still there. His skin was ice cold, and he was so still. Cas reached for the seatbelt, but the latch didn’t give. The lap belt had locked around Dean’s waist, suspending him over the roof of the car.

“I’m going to get you out,” Cas promised him. He wiggled around until he could reach the glovebox, knowing Dean always kept some type of knife in there. It opened, dumping items onto the roof of the car. He grabbed the small folding knife Dean had in there, sawing through the seatbelt as quickly and carefully as he could, catching Dean as he fell.

“It’s ok. It’s ok, I have you and I’m getting you out.” Cas dragged Dean from the car, wrapping him in blankets as soon as they reached the snowmobile.

* * *

 

“You were gone forty-five - oh my god!” Sam rushed forward, taking Dean from Cas’s arms.

“We have to warm him up right away.”

Sam nodded, scooping Dean into his arms and carrying him out of the garage. Cas followed, dropping pieces of cold weather gear as he went. He grabbed the space heater from his room and plugged it in when he reached Dean’s room, setting it on high.

“He’s so cold!” Sam said, pulling Dean’s boots off.

“I’ll undress him. Go fill the hot water bottles. He’s going to need to be warmed as quickly as we can.”

“Ok.” Sam dashed off for the kitchen.

Cas carefully stripped off everything Dean had on, except for his boxers. He tucked him under many layers of blankets, carefully pulling them back to inspect one foot at time.

The skin there was cold and hard, but didn’t appear to be in the advance stages of frostbite. Crossing to Dean’s dresser, he found the softest, thickest pair of socks the man owned, and carefully pulled them over his feet.

Sam returned with four hot water bottles, and they laid them over Dean’s body, in between a layer of blankets. “We gotta get in there with him. Skin to skin is the best way.”

“I know,” Cas said, already pulling off clothes. Across the room, Sam was doing the same. They slipped under the blankets, pressing close to Dean on either side.

“Holy shit,” Sam gasped. “He’s so cold.”

“Rub his arms, Sam, rub his hands and fingers. We’ve got to get the blood moving.”

“Ok.”

For the next several hours, they took turns switching out the water bottles. Cas and Sam were both sweating from the increased warmth in the room, but Dean was still cool and still. He’d warmed up a little, but he hadn’t regained consciousness or even moved since they’d laid him in bed.

“I’m worried,” Sam said softly.

“Me, too.”

Hours passed. Sam actually dozed off at one point, but Cas stayed awake. He was exhausted, but he wouldn’t let himself fall asleep.

Not until he knew Dean was ok.

* * *

 

Cold had become warm. And comfortable. Somehow, he’d gone from feeling like he was Luke Skywalker, hanging upside down in a frozen cave, to feeling like he was tucked into his memory foam under mountains of soft blankets.

“He’s coming around.”

“Dean?”

Blinking his eyes open, Dean was surprised to find both Sam and Cas staring at him. “Look a little worried, fellas,” he rasped.

Sam rolled his eyes so hard, it was a wonder they stayed in his head. “He’s fine. I’m sweaty and I need a shower. Make sure he drinks something.” He reached down and squeezed Dean’s shoulder. “You’re an idiot, by the way. But I’m glad you’re ok.”

“How bad is the car?” he asked Cas, as Sam left, muttering about idiot brothers.

“Banged up. We may have to wait until it thaws a little more to get her out.”

“I’ll fix her.”

“Of course you will.” Cas held out a bottle of water. “Drink.”

Dean complied, shivering the whole time.

“Back under the blankets.” Cas moved to slide out of the bed, but Dean reached out and stopped him. “Dean?”

“Warmer with you in here,” he said softly, trying to convey his meaning with his eyes.

“Oh,” Cas said softly. He climbed back into the bed, laying down beside Dean. “I’ll stay as long as you need me too.”

“Thanks,” Dean smiled. Taking a chance, he rolled into Cas’s side, laying his head on his chest. For a moment, Cas was very still, but then he wrapped his arms around Dean and pulled him close. “Now I’m good and warm,” Dean mumbled, already dozing back off.

Cas chuckled and kissed his forehead.

* * *

 

That was how Sam found them an hour later, curled into each other’s arms and sound asleep.

“Happy birthday, Dean,” he said softly, pulling the door shut behind him.

  
  



End file.
